Page 84 of The City of Stardust

Penelope looks at him thoughtfully, running a finger around the rim of her glass. In the firelight, the shadows around her lengthen. For the first time, she looks old, her skin softened with creases, a thread of silver flashing in her hair. It’s an impossible image; she hasalways seemed immutable.And why do you suppose that is?a voice snarls at him from the back of his mind.

“Aleksander, if it was up to me, I would waive it. You have more than proved your loyalties to me,” she says. “Alas, if only it were so. However, I think you will be more than worthy of the task.” She stands up. “Are you ready?”

“Now?” he says, shocked.

She smiles. “There is no better time than the present.”

“I—I haven’t prepared; I haven’t studied—”

She silences him with a look. “Aleksander, you have been studying for this your whole life.”

She pulls a key from her pocket. Seeing where she intends to lead him, Aleksander starts to remove his robe, but Penelope stops him.

“We are not going to be seen,” she says.

He follows her into the small travel chamber, where snow gathers in front of the open doorway. His breath mists in front of him and he shivers.

The scholar’s test. How long has he waited to be invited to take it? He’s heard rumours of tricky alchemy, or long exams with initiates sweating over every single word. But if they’re crossing over into the other world, then this is obviously no essay. Perhaps he’ll be dropped off in an unknown city and asked to do something impossible.

Wind. Free fall. A rush of blue light.

He opens his eyes to a dark room. There are rows of beds lined up against the wall, moonlight glinting off the metal posts. In each one, a child slumbers, their eyelids fluttering as they dream.

Aleksander turns to her, alarmed. They must have made a mistake somewhere, travelled with the wrong intent, or—

But Penelope never makes mistakes.

“Welcome to the test,” she says. “I would like you to find a dreamer.”

He frowns. Is that all? He must have done this a hundred times under her watch, on busy streets with a million more distractions to unbalance him. He settles his mind into that grey space of singular focus, and casts his gaze over the row of sleeping children. Golden sparkles leap out at him immediately.

“Fourth bed from the window,” he says confidently.

Penelope nods; she must already know. But she doesn’t congratulate him, or pull out her key to return home. Instead, she looks at him with a steely, unwavering gaze that sends his stomach plummeting.

“You are going to take that child’s hand, and you will walk out of here,” she says. “Back to Fidelis.”

Aleksander freezes. He can’t have heard that right.

“Mistress?” he says.

She doesn’t move. “This is the test.”

“The test is to steal achild?” He is being too loud; one of the children groans and rolls over. “A child.”

He says it again, as though repeating it would somehow elucidate a greater truth. Because there must be a greater truth at hand. This is part of the test, surely? Penelope asking for him to think harder, faster, smarter about why she wants him to pluck a child from their bed. Because she can’t actually want that. She can’t.

“This is the test, Aleksander.”

He takes a step backwards. “I don’t understand.”

“They have talent, therefore they are the property of Fidelis.” Penelope smiles. “After all, how do you think I chose you?”

CHAPTER

Forty-One

VIOLET HAS Aweek left. Just one week to undo a centuries-old curse. It feels like a fool’s effort, but she has to try.

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